


Apparent Lies

by Zeplerfer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fake Pregnancy, M/M, sorta mpreg, unsustainable lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 23:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12641742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/pseuds/Zeplerfer
Summary: "I'm pregnant," America said, hoping to frighten England for Halloween. But what is he supposed to do when his lie makes England happier than he's ever been before? There's only one solution: Keep lying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story isn't actually mpreg, but it does discuss the idea of male pregnancy. Also, yes, I am still working on bringing over all of my stories from ffnet.

_"Children love their parents. Eventually they come to judge them. Rarely do they forgive them."_   
_– Oscar Wilde_

* * *

America stared at his laptop and sighed. It was already the evening of October 30, and he didn't have a plan to scare England for Halloween. Sure, he could ask Japan for help again, but even if he won, England would just spend the next year bitterly complaining that it was actually  _Japan_  who had scared him, not America. Faced with an almost impossible task, America turned to the one thing that had always given him help in really desperate situations, like when he needed to pull an all-nighter or finish a paper for his boss.

The Internet.

He and the other Al had practically invented it, so he knew the internet would never give up, would never let him down, and certainly would never run around and desert him. With Rick Astley playing in the background, America felt a surge of confidence as he started searching for good tips on how to scare his boyfriend. Unfortunately, his first search suggested that pretending to be a ghost was a good scare tactic. America hid under his blankets and shivered. He couldn't help it, ghosts were terrifying! He loved his boyfriend too much to pretend to be a g-g-ghost. Determined to beat England this year, he bit his lip, clutched his teddy bear, and tried again.

"Nothing scares a man more than finding out his girlfriend is pregnant," one website advised under a list of 10 Things that Terrify Men.

America grinned. Victory was so close he could  _taste_  it.

Then the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind made him shriek in terror. The ghost had come to get its revenge because America thought it was too scary for England! It was going to kill him and, even worse, steal all of his candy!

America spent the next few hours shivering in his bed, playing the theme to Ghostbusters as loudly as he could to scare the ghosts away. He  _wanted_  to call England, but he knew through harsh experience that a grouchy Englishman woken up in the middle of the night was scarier than any ghost. Finally, as the clock ticked to 2am, he breathed a sigh of relief and called the Ghostbuster closest to his heart.

"England! There's a ghost outside my house," America whispered into the phone. "And I don't think he's the friendly sort."

He heard a fond sigh on the other end. "Good morning to you too, dear. What have I told you about watching scary movies when I'm not there?"

"I know. But... can you keep talking? I feel better when I hear your voice."

"Very well..."

As England's crisp words and gentle intonation filled his ears, America slowly relaxed. The thought of ghosts disappeared from his mind and he returned to planning how he was going to scare his boyfriend. Last year, Japan had advised him that it was wise to strike early, when England wouldn't expect it. America decided that 2am on October 31 was about as early as he could get, other than secretly arriving at England's house at midnight (though he made a mental note to try that tactic next year).

"...and Prussia has something planned for Mischief Night. He always does. Are you even listening to me, America?"

"Yeah, I'm listening." America paused and decided to put Operation Baby Daddy into motion. "Um, I've got something really important to tell you. Are you sitting down?"

England chuckled. "There's no need to be so dramatic. I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of handling the latest news about McDonald's ad campaign."

"I'm not calling about that! Jeez. Look, this is important. Tony was messing around with some fertility technology before your last visit and he just explained to me what some of it does and we ran a few tests to double-check and…"

"Could we talk about something other than your vulgar friend?"

"Sweetie…" America said, pausing for dramatic effect. "I'm pregnant."

America could hear England's phone clatter to the floor with a loud crash on the other end of the line. He smiled to himself, proud of himself for scaring his boyfriend without any help. But just as he prepared to claim victory, England cried delightedly, "Darling, this is fantastic news! I've always wanted… I mean, it's always been my dream that… Oh, bollocks. I need to see you in person. Do you want me to come over today?"

America nearly dropped his own phone. "Uh, yeah, that sounds great," he managed to reply after a few panicked moments, realizing that he had to say  _something_.

"Wonderful! Are you at your D.C. home?"

"Yep." Shit-shit-shit. He had to open his mouth to explain that England had gotten it all wrong, but England sounded so joyful that he just couldn't find the words.

"I'll catch the next flight. See you soon, love," England replied happily.

"Bye," America managed to choke out. He heard the click on the other end of the line and stared at his phone in shock. He had approximately seven hours to figure out how to explain that this was all just his extremely stupid idea of a scare. England was going to be pissed at him, then he was going to get pissed, and then the night would end in drunken tears.

_Crap._

"What the hell was I  _thinking_?" America asked himself as he collapsed onto his bed and stared at his ceiling. Unfortunately, all it held was his collection of glow-in-the-dark stars, and he didn't think his solution was written in the stars.

After an hour of fretting, America fell asleep while still trying to come up with a plan. That night his dreams featured a small child with vibrant green eyes and bushy eyebrows. The child laughed in a field and then ran away as it started to rain. America's chest constricted and he tossed and turned in his bed, trying to escape the horrible dream. Was it guilt? Was it an ominous omen? Was it that burrito he had eaten that was a little past its expiration date? He was almost grateful when his Lady Gaga ringtone woke him up the next day around noon, until he saw that it was England calling him from the airport.

"England, you're here!" America said in a panic that could pass for excitement.

"Oh darling, it's going to be so wonderful to see you," England gushed, uncharacteristically sentimental. "I can't wait to tell everyone the news!"

"Wait! There's something I need to tell you."

"I'm sorry, love, I need to hang up. We're disembarking. I'll see you soon!"

The phone went click.

"...I'm not actually pregnant," America told the dead phone.

Weighed down by guilt, he slowly tugged on his jeans and climbed into his pickup truck. It was still Halloween, so the scare could last all day… right? Even though it obviously wasn't scaring England. He'd just pretend it was an April Fool's Day prank that was six months early. Or something. America would figure out some way to explain it all to England tomorrow. And most importantly, he'd figure out a way to explain it so that England would still love him and wouldn't be super angry.

With those thoughts in his mind, America pulled up to the airport loading zone and soon spotted his favorite head of messy sand-blond hair.

"Over here!" England beamed as he waved America over. He pulled himself into the passenger's seat and bent over to kiss America soundly. "Oh, love, I missed you so much."

"Me too, babe," America breathed, leaning into the kiss as he slipped his hands under England's sweater vest. It felt so good to have England in his arms and England's arms around his neck and England's neck covered in kisses and love bites. They made out in the front seat like randy teenagers until the windows began to steam up and one of the parking guards knocked on the door, reminding them that the loading zone had a ten minute waiting limit. America thought about risking a parking ticket just so they could keep kissing, but England leaned back into his seat and buckled his seatbelt, signaling to America that it was time to drive home.

"This almost feels too good to be true," England said, his eyes filled with warm affection. "We're going to need to prepare a special bedroom. Oh, there's so much to do!"

"Yeah..." America nodded and kept his gaze on the road, because he wasn't sure he could lie to England's face. England asked a thousand questions on the ride back and America 'explained' that Tony had left some of his alien male pregnancy technology near America's video games and that America had accidentally turned it on during England's last visit.

"Tony saw that it was on when he came back and he did a few tests and you know the rest," America finished as he pulled into his driveway. He glanced over at England and decided that it was a good thing a person couldn't actually die of happiness. England looked like he had won the lottery, cured cancer, and received an acceptance letter to Hogwarts, all on the same day. America's stomach tightened. He loved to see England smiling and happy, but this felt wrong. He decided to end the charade now before it got worse.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to come clean. "Hey, England, you know how we always scare each other for Halloween?"

"Oh, don't worry, love. We'll have a truce during your pregnancy," England reassured him. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to our child. And that means no scary movies!" he admonished. He hopped out of the pickup truck and carried his own bag to the door before America could say anything.

This was going to be way harder than he had planned.

England paused at the doorway and grinned back at America. "Aren't you coming, love?" he asked, his eyes half-lidded in obvious invitation. America forgot all about his worries as they stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming against furniture and walls before they barely made it onto the bed and fumbled off their clothes. It was an absolutely  _fantastic_ morning and the rest of the day proved to be equally awesome.

They did everything America wanted. They played his video games and watched his movies and had another awesome round of love-making in the afternoon. And most importantly, England smiled all day long, acting ridiculously sappy as he indulged America's every whim. It was wonderful, but around supper-time America began to realize that the happiness was hollow. How could he enjoy England's happiness when it was all fake?

He curled up into the sofa as they finished watching another one of his blockbuster films. England had even refrained from making his usual derogatory comments about movies that had 'more explosions than plot'.

"Are you okay, love?" England asked in concern.

"I feel sick," America moaned.

"Poor darling, do you want me to pick up some McDonald's?" England asked sympathetically as he ran his fingers through America's hair.

"Really?" Nothing cured America's guilt-induced illnesses faster than the promise of fast food. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming while England chuckled. Okay, maybe there were  _some_  advantages to lying.

After an excellent meal of hamburgers, they prepared for the best part of the evening: trick-or-treaters. America had plenty of candy, lots of spooky cobwebs covering his house, and―most importantly―matching costumes for himself and England. He held up a skimpy angel outfit. "Look what I've got for you, honey," he said with pride.

For the first time that day, England balked at America's request. "Absolutely not!" he protested. "That stitch of fabric wouldn't cover a tea cup."

"Ah, come on, sweetie. It'll look great on you! And I've got a matching one." America whirled around, showing off his devil costume, complete with leather wings and a black wig. He was going for 'devilishly handsome' and he considered the costume a huge success. When the sexiness of the costume didn't sway England, he pulled out his pout and asked, "Don't you think parents should match?"

"Well, I suppose..." England got that sappy look on his face that appeared whenever America reminded him about their 'child', and America knew that he had won. Sure, England complained the toga was too short―'incapable of covering both my thighs and my bum at the same time' as England put it―but the costume looked just as sexy awesome as America had imagined it would, and America had spent a  _lot_ of time thinking about England in a short toga with fluffy wings.

For the next few hours, they handed out a pile of candy to the constant stream of children. Neighborhood kids over the years had learned that America was very generous with his candy, so his house always had plenty of trick-or-treaters ringing the doorbell.

"What a sweet little butterfly!" England smiled as he complimented the children on their cute costumes. "And aren't you a handsome pirate."

England would make a good father, America realized as he admired the way the older nation interacted with kids. He was gentle, yet firm, stopping the children from taking too much candy. He loved to tell stories, frightening some of the older kids with tales of monsters and witches. He was patient and kind, giving a shy child extra time to pick out her favorite treats. As he watched England with the children, America felt an unaccustomed twinge of melancholy. He was sad that he wasn't actually pregnant. He was sad that England would never have this chance to dote on  _their_  child. England would never be able to sew him or her a cute costume, and hold the child's hand as they went trick-or-treating, and read him or her stories just before bed.

It would never be...

Except! America felt a sudden surge of excitement as a brilliant idea flashed in his brainpan. He had an alien friend. He represented a government with a freakishly large research budget. If anyone could find a way to become pregnant, he could!

And the best part was that England could keep on smiling and he would never need to know that America had lied.

"Thank you, Mr. Kirkland!" the children chorused.

America caught England's gaze as the trick-or-treaters left; he beamed at his boyfriend and poured his heart full of affection into that simple smile. "We're gonna have a baby," he whispered. England's eyes grew bright and he reached for America's hand, squeezing it lovingly as he smiled back.

And at that moment, life was perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

_"The truth isn't quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined gentleman."_  
_– Oscar Wilde (paraphrased)_

* * *

 

Having resolved to make the lie a reality, America no longer felt guilty about accepting England's constant doting. After all, he was  _almost_  pregnant. He deserved some TLC! Emphasis on the  _loving_. England had let him pick whichever positions felt most 'comfortable' the night before, and America took full advantage of the offer and England's insatiable appetite to make love so many times and in so many ways that England was still snoring as morning sunlight poured into America's patriotic bedroom.

He smiled as he tried to imagine what their lives would be like with a baby. England would sew adorable itty-bitty clothes, of course, and America would build an awesome treehouse, and they would all go out for ice cream cones every weekend. The only potential danger came from England's cooking… but their child would have to be immune to English cooking, right? And it wasn't like anyone called Social Services over burnt scones.

Pushing aside unpleasant thoughts of nasty food, America returned to his favorite pastime of watching England sleep. He so rarely had the opportunity, given that they lived an ocean apart. Before long, England's eyes fluttered open, making America's heart flutter too. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Morning. You weren't expecting breakfast in bed, were you?" England asked drowsily.

"Nope! I want you here where I can cuddle you."

"Mmm." England snuggled closer. "I think I can manage that request."

Cuddles turned into kisses as America relished in the sweet taste and gentle touch of his lover. He breathed in England's scent and sighed contentedly. As much as he enjoyed having England around for wild romps between the sheets, he was equally happy just to cuddle.

As they moved closer, England slid his hand down America's stomach and caressed his tummy. "So how long will the pregnancy last?" he asked.

"Dunno," America admitted. "Could be a while," he said, just to give himself some wiggle room in case his research went slowly. "Or it could be quick. Tony didn't really stick around long enough to explain the details when he heard you were coming over."

"Hmm." England rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His eyes began to gleam with the excitement that appeared on his face whenever he spent time thinking about their child. "If you're not sure of the timeline, we'll have to start by preparing the nurseries. At least one here and another in London."

England rolled out of bed and grabbed a piece of paper, excitedly jotting down all of the items that they would need for the baby's room. It looked like it would turn into a very long list indeed, including every toy and safety device imaginable. America watched in amusement and shook his head fondly. "Well, babe, I'll let you handle that. I've got some work to do."

The Englishman arched an eyebrow. "It's Saturday."

"Yeah, but I kinda fell behind because I didn't do anything last week."

With his excuses made, America wandered down to the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal. He plopped down with his laptop and created a new document to list out all of his possible ideas to make his fake pregnancy a reality. He was the land of Hollywood, so it wasn't hard to come up with a few ideas.

_Ways to Get Preggers_

_Alien technology_   
_Adoption_   
_Cloning_   
_Kidnapping (probably illegal?)_   
_Time travel_   
_Robots (cute ones, not killer ones)_   
_Whatever they did in 'Junior'_

America nodded to himself, pleased with his efforts. It was a solid list of ideas, although he'd been trying to work on time travel and cloning for years and he still wasn't having much luck. Adoption and kidnapping were much easier, except that he'd soon end up with a child who was older than him, and that would be really sad. America had learned his lesson after adopting a couple of dogs. That's why he stuck to hanging out with his alien friend and his shockingly long-lived whale. Speaking of which, he reached for his phone and called Tony.

"It's ―ing early," the alien complained.

"Sorry, dude! How's it going with the NASA folks? Also, do you think you can hook me up with some alien gizmo that would let me have a baby?"

"What the ―ing ―ck?"

"Come on, help me out here," America whined. "I wanna be eatin' for two."

"You already do," England teased as he walked into the kitchen and began preparing his morning cup of tea. America nearly jumped out of his chair. He closed his laptop and smiled at England, grateful he hadn't said anything incriminating as his boyfriend walked into the room.

"You mean with that ―ing limey?" Tony demanded on the other end of the line.

"Well, duh," America said with a roll of his eyes. He waited a few moments for Tony's response and heard nothing. He glanced at the phone and saw that the call had ended. Hmm.

Okay, maybe relying on alien technology wouldn't be the best solution.

America was ready to move on to the next item on the list, but instead he found himself dragged along on England's shopping trip for baby supplies and decorations. He didn't mind. It was worth it just to see the happy look on England's face as he picked _exactly_  the right shade of green to paint the room. America thought the color was perfect because it matched England's eyes. He was already hoping for a tyke with pretty green peepers and he hadn't even figured out how to get a baby yet!

"Ooh, do you prefer the trees or the fairies?" England asked as he closely examined the store's supply of peel-and-stick wall decals.

"Trees," America replied. "And let's do clouds on the ceiling!"

They piled soft blankets and plush toys into their cart, earning knowing smiles from the other shoppers as they wandered the aisles. The crib was a harder choice. America really wanted the one shaped like a train, but England convinced him to go with an elegant hardwood design. When they were finally done, England tried to carry everything to the car himself, but after nearly dropping the crib onto his foot, he had to give in and let America help.

"I'm preggers, not helpless," America said with a laugh as he loaded the crib into the trunk.

They spent the next week decorating one of the guest bedrooms until it was absolutely perfect. England handled the painting and arranged the wall decorations while America assembled the furniture. The work went slowly, mostly because they took plenty of breaks for food, movies, and hanky panky.

"So, have you thought some more about baby names?" England asked that evening as the two nations lay curled together on America's plush couch. In the background, the credits rolled for America's latest superhero movie. England had put his foot down in saying 'no' to a horror movie, but he hadn't complained about the ridiculous superheroes. In fact, whenever America glanced over at his boyfriend, he'd seen a contended smile on England's face. It really suited him.

"Well, I think the baby should have one," America replied cheerfully.

England snorted and swatted him lightly on the shoulder. "I was thinking Alice or Abigail for a girl. Maybe Albert for a boy. We could call him 'Little Al.'"

"'Little Al' sounds nice, but wasn't Albert one of your kings?" America pouted. "I thought we'd agreed on no kings and no presidents."

"Technically, Albert was a prince consort, not a king. One doesn't become king through marriage, although, oddly enough, queens do. Unless you're thinking of Belgium's king,  _she_  had a King Albert..." England rambled into a random discussion of European royalty, and America tuned him out until he returned to baby names. "Regardless, we could always do 'Alexander' instead."

"Alex." America grinned. "Yeah, I like it."

"And for a girl's name?"

America wrinkled his nose at England's earlier suggestions. "I dunno. Alice is a little too you and Abby is a bit too me. I think we need something that really connects us both. Something pretty and sweet."

"I am partial to flower names," England admitted with an adorable blush.

The gentle pink of his boyfriend's cheeks brought one flower immediately to America's mind. It was the obvious choice. "How about Rose?" he suggested.

"Rose Jones-Kirkland," England murmured to himself. "I'm not sure. I feel that her first name should be a little longer." He knitted his brows together in concentration before suggesting a slightly different flower. "Rosemary Jones-Kirkland."

"Beautiful," America agreed. "Especially the Jones-Kirkland part."

He wrapped his arm around England and happily spent the rest of the day watching sappy movies and cuddling. When his boss called, he just said that he was improving international relations. His boss was a smart guy—he always stopped asking questions at that point.

* * *

As the week progressed, America began to worry that he still hadn't figured out a way to get a bun in his oven. Hoping to have some time to research his options without England underfoot, he went in to work one day and called in his government's top scientists. Unfortunately, the scientists told him that cloning technology was still in the earliest stages and that cloning a human (or, in his case, a nation) would be highly unethical.

Stupid ethics, always ruining America's plans!

With alien technology and cloning crossed off the list, he moved on to robots. And he knew exactly who to call: Japan, the master of all inventions robotic. He had heard about Japan's hyper-realistic sexbots. He just hoped his friend also made something more G-rated.

"America-san, it's good to hear from you. Is this about your party?"

"What party?"

"Eto..." Japan paused. "Your Chrismasu party?"

America laughed. "Dude! It's way too early to start planning for Christmas. I haven't even had Thanksgiving yet."

"Oh, I see... did you have another reason for calling?"

"Yeah! I wanted to ask you about robots."

"Robots," Japan replied, his voice even flatter than usual.

"Yep. Do you have any kid robots? Something that looks super realistic."

"Apologies." Japan sounded embarrassed. "My robot industry is more adult oriented."

"Oh, okay. Well, domo arigato, Mr. Roboto." America sighed and crossed another item off the list. He didn't realize it was so hard to have a child! He was starting to worry that he would never be able to give England the baby he so clearly wanted. And if months passed without any changes in America's appearance, the other nation was certain to grow suspicious.

America was still feeling depressed on the drive home to his D.C. house. He considered confessing to England. Yes, his boyfriend would be mad, but he would forgive him eventually. And the more days that passed and the higher he built his tower of lies, the angrier that England would be when he finally learned of America's deception. It would be best to make a clean breast of it, and hope that England forgave him before Christmas.

As America opened the door, still thinking about how he was going to break the news, he was shocked to discover that his whole house had been redecorated with pastel balloons and banners.

"Surprise!" a multitude of nations yelled, popping out from hiding places behind the plants and furniture.

"Uh, guys? My birthday isn't for like eight and a half more months," America said as he looked around, confused to see half of the world in his living room.

England smiled and shrugged apologetically. "That's because this is a baby shower, love, not a birthday party. I started by inviting your friends and… that one nation, whats-his-name… but I'm afraid it got a little out of hand."

"Hey, the more the merrier, mate!" Australia interjected with a big grin. "Look, I got a stuffed koala for the tyke. Much softer than the real thing." The evil koala on his shoulder glared, proving Australia's point.

"Uh, thanks," America replied, feeling his heart sink as he looked around the room. It was obvious that he couldn't tell England the truth now. Not without admitting his lies to the entire world. He was just going to have to find a way to become pregnant, no matter what the cost. America faked a grin and tried to enjoy the party as he accepted everyone's congratulations and gifts.

"Do you know the sex yet, America-san?" Japan asked politely.

"Nope! I'm just hoping for ten fingers, ten toes, and normal eyebrows."

"Oi!" England protested.

"Amérique, I assure you, Angleterre was very cute as a child," Francis interjected. "Just do not let the child grow long hair—England always looked like a terrifying caterpillar."

"Says the man who always dressed like a  _girl_ ," England retorted.

America laughed and pulled England away from France before his boyfriend could restart the Hundred Years' War. While England swapped decoration tips with Poland, America made his way to the buffet table and grabbed a slice of cake. It was delicious (clearly not England's cooking) and the inside featured green mint swirls amidst chocolate cake. England must have shared their plan to buy green clothing and toys with the other nations. America continued to hope that the baby had England's green eyes. And to be honest, big eyebrows would be cute. Pictures didn't exist when England was a child, but America had always wanted to see little England. Having a little child to raise with England was going to be the next best thing.

Thinking of his hypothetical child, America didn't even notice Sweden and Finland approach.

"H'w?" Sweden asked with a terrifying look on his face.

"W-what?" America managed to respond. Sure, it wasn't the most brilliant response, but he'd like to see other nations keep calm in the icy cold face of Sweden.

"Sve-sve, there's no need to scare him," Finland gently chided. He turned to face America and smiled softly. "Don't worry, Sweden simply wants to know how you became pregnant."

Caught between Sweden's fierce gaze and Finland's hopeful one, America didn't know what to say. "Uh, it's a secret, er, classified," he mumbled. He quailed in the face of Sweden's intimidating gaze. "But I'll see if I can get you clearance, yeah?"

"Oh, that would be marvelous!" Finland chirped.

A thought occurred to America. "Don't you guys already have a kid?" he asked.

"Yes, and Sealand is a dear, but we'd always hoped to have one of our own."

"I see." America bit his lip. "So... how did you get Sealand?"

Finland shrugged. "We bought him on Ebay."

"You can  _do_  that?" America gaped, his heart leaping with joy. He couldn't wait for the party to end, because he now had the best plan ever for finding a child. Honestly, it should have occurred to him much earlier to use the internet to buy a child.

When the party finally finished, England cleaned up while America relaxed on the couch. He fully intended to milk his fake pregnancy for all it was worth.

Because now he had a  _plan_. There weren't any children listed for sale on eBay, but thinking about Sealand had made him realize that it was easy to create a miniature nation. What was a nation other than some land, some people, and an idea? As a representative of the U.S. government, he had plenty of land. And the internet had plenty of people and ideas. All he needed was an idea that was a blend of both him and England.

With his impressive searching skills, America landed on the perfect website much quicker than he expected: The so-called Dominion of British West Florida.

It was like someone had invented a micronation just so it could be his and England's child. According to the self-styled "Duke of Florida," a portion of Florida had reverted to the British crown due to poor wording in a treaty between Britain and Spain. As a result, the Duke challenged the authority of America's annexation of Florida. The history made America's eyes glaze over, but the important part was that British West Florida was a mixture of American and British culture.

Of course, that left only one problem: not every micronation had its own personification. They needed their land, no matter how small or how disputed. But America had a solution to that problem. He would just 'borrow' some land from the Federal government and soon he would hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

"Whew, that's the last of the rubbish," England said as he plopped onto the sofa. "How are you feeling? You seemed a bit down during the party. Is everything all right?" he asked, gently resting his hand on America's belly.

America beamed at him. "Everything's great, darling," he replied.


	3. Chapter 3

_"To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness."_   
_– Oscar Wilde_

* * *

"Are you sure you need the whole weekend?" England asked, giving America a worried look as he helped him carry his suitcase to the ground floor.

"The tests could take a while. Don't worry, babe. I'll be fine!" America leaned over and gave England a peck on the cheek. He liked England's constant mother-henning when it meant that he didn't have to lift a finger to do laundry or other chores, but the clinginess made it a little difficult to execute his plan to create a new micronation. "I'd love to bring you with me, but you know how Tony gets."

"I know." England sighed. "Well, I suppose I could use the chance to go back to London to do some work. And I can set up our other nursery while I'm there. Take care, love."

"Love you too, sweetheart! I'll call you every day," America promised. He waved goodbye and headed out the door. He bounced with excitement as he drove himself to the airport. If England was so deliriously happy just at the  _thought_  of a child, he couldn't wait to see England's face when his boyfriend finally had a chance to hold their baby in his arms.

From this point on, America's plan was simple. Although he didn't use it much, he had a high ranking government authorization. It would be more than enough to transfer some federal land over to the man behind the micronation (the self-declared Earl of Rum). And he had already set up a meeting with the Earl. The only hard part would be convincing the man to actually accept the land and money, but how hard could it be to give away free land? America had given away plenty of free land back in the day and it had worked out just fine.

After landing in Florida, America checked his voicemail messages from England. Unsurprisingly, his lover wanted him to call right away to let him know that he had arrived safely. It was cute to hear the worry in England's voice over a simple three-hour flight. While he was checking the last of the voicemails, he saw an incoming call from England.

America smiled. "Hey, babe! No need to worry, I'm here and still safe."

"I wasn't worried," England protested unconvincingly. "I just missed you."

"Aww, me too, sweetheart. Are you on your way to London yet?"

"Not quite. Still cleaning up a bit before I leave. You forgot your laptop, by the way."

"I did?" America felt a rush of worry as he remembered all of the notes he had been keeping on his laptop. "You haven't been using it, have you?"

"No. Why? Is there a problem?"

"No! It's just... you know how you are with technology."

England harrumphed on the other end of the line. "Excuse you. I am hardly a luddite."

"Yeah? What about that time you tried to set the alarm?"

"You're the one who smashed it to bits."

"Because it was trying to wake me up at 3am in Swahili!" America looked around and noticed that he was getting strange looks from the other customers waiting in line for their rental cars. He also noticed that he was now at the front of the line. "Sorry, babe. Gotta go! I'll talk to you later. Love you!"

"We've got your car ready for you, Mr. Jones," the service agent said after checking through America's paperwork.

"Awesome! Hey, can I get a child's car seat too?"

She gave him a look that said aren't-you-little-young-to-have-a-kid, but America just kept grinning. Sure, he looked 19, but he was plenty old enough, and anyway, the customer was always right.

America tossed the car seat into the back of his sporty red rental car and turned the volume up as high as it would go as he drove to the McDonald's in Pensacola where he had arranged to meet the Earl of Rum. Like a proper spy, he wore a pair of sunglasses and a big floppy hat to disguise his identity. Too late, he realized that he looked like every other tourist in Florida. Fortunately, the Earl found him anyways, since America had told him that he would be the person eating 'a mountain of burgers'.

"So... you're the one who asked about the Dominion of British West Florida?" the man asked after he slid into the booth across from America. He had to lean to the side to see America past the pile of burgers that covered the table.

"Yep. I've got something for you." America glanced from side to side and slipped a packet under the table. It contained a trust account and a deed to some land that had formerly been part of the national seashore near Pensacola. The official government transfer was set to happen the next day. The Earl of Rum flipped through the papers with a look of surprise, trying to figure out America's motives.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

America grinned. "Don't ask."

"Why are you doing this?"

" _Really_  don't ask."

"Is this a trick of some sort?"

America shook his head. "Let's just say that I want to help you make British West Florida a reality," he replied, filling his voice with complete sincerity.

With a careful nod, the other man thanked him and accepted the trust account and property in the name of the Dominion of British West Florida. America resisted the urge to jump up on the table and shout in excitement, but he did grin like a maniac as he finished his burgers. He couldn't wait to call England and give him the good news. They were going to have a baby very soon!

As soon as America returned to the privacy of his car, he called England, but his smile slowly disappeared as the phone rang straight to voicemail. He hung up and stared at his phone in confusion. Why wasn't England answering the phone? The answer clicked a moment later and America kicked himself for worrying. England obviously had his phone turned off because he was on a plane headed to London. He called again and this time left a message.

"England, it's going to happen soon!" America shouted excitedly. "Apparently alien technology works way faster than I expected. Come back as soon as you can. I miss you."

The next few hours were filled with increasingly painful suspense as America waited for a phone call that never came. He browsed the news, checking to make sure that there hadn't been any problems with transatlantic flights. Maybe England had forgotten to check his messages before going to bed. Jetlag always hit him hard. Or maybe he had accidentally reprogrammed his phone to Swahili. There were plenty of rational reasons why England wasn't calling, but none of them stopped America from worrying.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, America grabbed his jacket and his keys. No matter what was going on with England, the land transfer would take effect at the stroke of midnight, and that meant that he had a micronation to find. Fortunately, it wouldn't be much trouble to find him or her. Nations could only appear in their own land and the Dominion of British West Florida now consisted of a piece of land the size of four basketball courts.

He began to wonder what British West Florida would look like. He felt fairly confident in predicting blond hair, but would she have dimples? Would he have freckles? Would the child's skin be British pale or covered in a Floridian tan? America was eager to find out, and he couldn't wait to see the smile on England's face when he finally held the child in his arms. England was going to be over the moon.

America parked his car on the side of the road and walked past the sign informing him that Pensacola Beach was only open from dawn to dusk. Fortunately, he was a free country and could do whatever he wanted. He climbed over the fence and walked down to the beach, pausing on the way to admire the brilliant stars overhead.

He walked along the dunes looking for a tiny figure in the rustling knee-high grasses. The sand beneath his feet gleamed white in the moonlight as he tried to figure out the precise borders of British West Florida. As he crested one of the dunes, he stood still and simply listened. Young nations tended to be skittish, but they were also very curious about the world around them. If he waited patiently, he knew that West Florida would come to him.

With a patient sigh, America sat down on the soft sand and crossed his legs. He waited and listened, spending the time wistfully imagining how happy England was going to be to see cute little Alexander or Rosemary in the nursery they had lovingly prepared for him or her. And beyond making England happy, America was also starting to realize that he really wanted a child himself. He wanted someone to love and care for, especially when England had to be in England. Despite the difficulties of long distance parenthood, he swore to himself that he was going to give his kid the best childhood ever. And when the time came, he would add more land to West Florida, letting his child grow older as the centuries progressed. And perhaps, when he or she was ready, one day his child would become the Republic of West Florida. And on that day, America could say, with a tear in his eye, 'My baby is all grown up and declaring independence!'

Returning to the present, America smiled when he finally heard footsteps softly approaching. He turned his head to see a small child toddling closer. Like all newborn nations, she wore a simple white gown. Pale hair framed her face, except for one small tuft that pointed to the sky.

"Hi, there," America said softly as he tried not to make any sudden movements.

She smiled back and whispered hello with a faint English accent. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight. America couldn't see the color, but he knew instantly that they were green. Green like the Everglades. Green like the lily pads in the wetlands. Green like England.

"Who aw you?" she asked, head tilted to the side in curiosity.

"I'm America, but you can call me Alfred. I'm gonna take you home so you can meet Arthur. Would you like that, Rosemary?"

She blinked. "Wosemawy?"

"That's you." America stretched out his hand. "You're British West Florida. And my little Rosie."

"West Flowida. Wosie," she said, testing out the names with her adorable lisp. She smiled and placed her tiny hand in his. America lifted the little girl into his arms and cradled her against his chest as he stood up. Lulled by the gentle motion, her eyes fluttered closed and she started to breath evenly, fast asleep in the time it took America to walk back to his car.

He buckled the micronation into the car seat and sang her a lullaby that he remembered from long, long ago as he returned to the airport. It took all of his strength to wait to call England, but there was no way he was going to use a cellphone while driving with his brand new daughter.

The call went straight to voicemail again. "She's a girl," America said softly, taking care not to wake the child. "Your eyes. She's beautiful, England. Call me soon, sweetie."

* * *

They took an early flight and America enjoyed the delighted coos from the women sitting next as they admired his adorable little girl. She was definitely England's child; remarkably well behaved and very clever, she picked up new words as quickly as a sponge. America would have to remember not to swear in front of her. He didn't want to see the look on England's face when his little angel started cussing.

As they landed in D.C., America was thrilled to see that he'd received a voicemail from England during the flight, but he was disappointed to discover that England's message said nothing more than, "Call me when you get home, America. We need to talk."

He drove home at a very safe and responsible speed, but he felt his worries grow as he neared his home. Was England having second thoughts about parenthood? America wasn't sure he was ready to become a single father!

Rushing into his house, he lowered Rosemary into her crib and called England as soon as she fell asleep. "Hey, England. I got your message, babe. Is everything okay?"

"I'm not stupid, you know." England sounded pissed. Both British pissed  _and_  American pissed.

"What?" America asked, desperately hoping for the best.

"Quote, nothing scares a man more than finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, unquote. Did you really think that would work?" England demanded harshly. "Or was the scary part supposed to be how long you were willing to keep lying to me?"

America froze as he tried to comprehend the heartbroken anger in England's voice. It was obvious that his boyfriend had looked at his laptop. America wished he could say that England was wrong, but the most he could say in his defense was, "I just wanted to make you happy."

"Oh, yes.  _Of course_. Nothing makes me happier than having to call up all of the other nations I invited to the baby shower and let them know that I'm a  _fool_  and my ex-boyfriend is a bloody  _liar_."

"Please, England! I know it started off wrong, but I really did find a way to have a child. I wasn't lying about that, I swear! Just come and see her," America pleaded. If only he could convince England to see Rosemary, he knew his boyfriend would forgive him and they could be a happy family. "It wasn't that hard, actually. I found this guy on the internet—"

"—we're over, America." England's broken sob was the last thing America heard before the call ended.

"England..." America felt tears well up in his own eyes as he stared at the smiling photo of England on his phone. It had been so hard to capture that photo, it had taken so many years to build up his relationship with England to the point where they could be lovers, and now he was afraid he would never see England's smile again except on his phone and in his memories. The wonderful happiness he had felt bubbling in his chest ever since the first moment he held Rosemary in his arms vanished in the blink of an eye. "No, we're not," America insisted to himself.

He just needed a way to show England that he had been telling the truth about their child. In a desperate bid to win back England's affections, he took a picture of Rosemary as she slept curled up in her beautiful crib and he sent it to England. Maybe if England could just see her, he would believe America. Moments later, the phone rang and England's smiling face on the contact photo appeared, giving America a fleeting sense of hope.

"This has gone too far!" the Englishman hissed. "Return that poor girl to her parents. Her  _real_  parents. Right now."

"W-what?"

England growled, "Don't play that American idiot game with me. I know you didn't use alien technology. You came up with a list of ways to get a child and the only one you could have accomplished in this amount of time is  _abduction_. So return her this instant!"

"I can't return her!" America protested. "She's ours."

"Stop lying, America. Just,  _stop it_." It sounded like England was crying, but he hung up again before America had a chance to explain himself. The American stared at his phone in dismay. A small voice in his head told him that this was what he deserved for lying to England. He had lied to England and now they would never be a happy family and it was all his fault.

"Daddy, aw you okay?" Rosemary asked drowsily.

America wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled down at her. It was a fake smile, but it would have to do. "Don't worry, Rosie. I'm fine. Everything is going to be just fine," he said, trying to reassure himself as he gently touched her soft golden hair. Her accented voice served as a reminder: He was fighting for more than just his own relationship with England. Now he had a daughter who needed both parents in her life. Even if England didn't forgive him, Rosemary didn't deserve to suffer because of America's lies. He waited until she fell asleep and began Operation Make England Meet His Daughter.

Unfortunately, all of America's phone calls went to voicemail. No one responded to his emails. His letters were returned unread. Even worse, in a surprising display of international solidarity, the other nations adamantly refused to help him get in contact with England. His own boss called up a week later asking why the special relationship was on ice, and America knew that he had  _seriously_  screwed up.

All the while, he did his best to take care of Rosemary on his own. He cooked for her and took her outside to play and gave her regular baths. It was wonderful spending time with the sweet little girl, but it was hard to look at her bright green eyes without thinking of England. And she broke his heart each time she asked when she was going to meet Arthur and he had to admit that he didn't know.

The worst moment came when he tried to book a flight to London and discovered that his passport had been rejected. In all of their fights over the years, England had never revoked his right to travel to the British Isles.

America grimaced. He was left with no other choice but to wait for the next World Meeting. Fortunately for him, it was scheduled to take place in Montreal, so at least he would be on somewhat friendly territory. It wasn't like they could stop him, the world's sole superpower, from attending.

But, apparently, they could try.

America carried Rosemary into the Canadian hotel, holding her with one arm as he pulled his luggage behind him with the second. He smiled at the woman behind the front desk and tried to pick up the keys to his room.

"I don't see you in the system, Mr. Jones. Are you sure your reservation is for this week?" she asked, giving him an apologetic smile.

"I'm positive," America insisted. "Look again."

Her brows knitted together in concentration as she stared at the screen. "Oh! It looks like we  _did_  have a reservation for you, but you called to cancel last week."

"What? I didn't cancel my reservation!"

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry, sir! I don't know how that mistake could have happened." She bit her lip as she tapped on the keyboard. "The hotel is all booked up for a conference. Would you like me to call the nearby hotels to see if they have an available room? We'll comp your rate, of course."

America sighed and shook his head. "Can you just call up and see if you can get Arthur Kirkland on the phone?" Maybe if he talked to England, they could resolve their problems and he could share England's room. Having his room suddenly cancelled on him could work in his favor.

The receptionist punched her keyboard a few times and shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. We have a few Kirklands in the system, but none named Arthur. Would you like to talk to Alistair?"

America raised his eyebrows in surprise. England's brothers normally didn't bother coming to the world conferences since England represented the United Kingdom on their behalf. Given what England had been telling the world about his lies, he wasn't sure he wanted to stay in the same hotel as them. He thanked the woman for her help and carried Rosemary back to the car. America needed someone to give him warm food and good advice. And that meant it was time to go visit his brother.

Canada's house in Montreal was in a quaint neighborhood not far from downtown. It had the most confusing set of parking signs America had ever seen; the Canadians felt they needed to describe the system in both English and French, leaving them with not enough room to actually explain it in either language. He parked anyway and decided he would just risk the ticket.

"Mattie, let me in!" America called, ringing the doorbell repeatedly.

A few moments later Canada opened the door with a sigh. "Oh, Al, you really shouldn't have come here." Behind him stood two of England's brothers.

America smiled and waved, trying to remember their names. "Hey, Scotland. Ireland," he said. "What's up?"

" _Northern_  Ireland," the shorter nation corrected. "And I'm going to beat you up just for that."

"I'm Wales, not that you ever remember," a third voice said. America turned around to see England's third brother standing behind him on the path to Canada's house, blocking his exit.

Scotland glared. "Allow us tae remind you that  _we_  are the only ones allowed to make England's life miserable."

"Daddy? Who aw they?" Rosemary asked, drawing the attention of the gathered nations for the first time. They looked confused at her presence and her accent.

"This is Uncle Mattie, Uncle Scottie, Uncle Ireland, and Uncle Wales," America said, pointing out each in turn. "Mattie's the best. He'll make you pancakes!"

" _Northern_  Ireland!"

"Do I have any aunts?" she asked, tilting her heard to the side.

"I dunno. I guess I'll have to introduce you to New Zealand, and you can decide for yourself!" America joked as he stepped inside, still carrying Rosemary. He plopped down on the couch, and warmed up in front of the fire. Despite what people said, he wasn't stupid. He knew that England's brothers were unhappy with him and he could guess that they were responsible for his cancelled hotel reservation. He could also guess that they wanted to do more than just chat. "Rosemary, why don't you help your uncle Mattie make some hot cocoa," America suggested.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Al," Canada murmured warningly, glancing between America and the U.K. brothers.

"Nah, it's fine," America insisted.

"Pwease Uncle Mattie? I want hot cocoa!"

"Okay, okay. Just... yell if you need me," Canada replied meaningfully. With a backward glance, he scooped up the micronation and carried her into the kitchen.

America focused his attention on the U.K. brothers who looked back at him with varying levels of confusion and anger. Whatever else they had been expecting, they clearly hadn't planned on him arriving at Canada's house with a child in tow. Did that mean England hadn't spread his kidnapping accusation? America hoped not. It would be much easier dealing with everyone if they didn't suspect him of abducting a young British citizen.

"Did you see her eyes?" Wales murmured.

"Normal eyebrows, though," Scotland noted.

"I say we beat him up just for leaving out the North in my name."

Scotland punched his arm. "North, nobody cares about your name!"

After just a few minutes of watching them argue, America was starting to understand why England hadn't invited his brothers to the baby shower. Seeing that it would be a while before the UK brothers reached a decision, he kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the coffee table. Sure, Canada would yell at him for dirtying the furniture, but Canada wasn't in the room.

"She looks like a toddler! There's no way she could be their child," Northern Ireland retorted, rubbing his shoulder as he glared at Scotland. "I'm pretty sure that's not how kids work."

Wales shook his head. He had the softest face of the group and America thought of him as the Canada of the UK, at least, when America thought of him at all. "But young nations aren't the same as human children. And something about her feels... almost like a nation."

Canada smiled in relief as he stepped into the room with three cups of hot cocoa, undoubtedly pleased to see that his living room hadn't turned into a war zone in his absence. America could tell he had been genuinely worried because he didn't even yell at him for putting his feet up on the furniture.

"Daddy, daddy! I twied maple syrup and it's yummy!" Rosemary shouted as she climbed into America's lap. She nearly spilled her cup, but he caught it in time and held it steady. The tension in the room eased as the UK brothers shared a silent look. Whatever they had planned for America, they would wait until he wasn't holding a small child in his lap.

"Oh my, look at the time. It's getting a bit late, eh?" Canada said, glancing at the door meaningfully.

"This isn't over," Scotland warned America as the UK brothers took their leave. "See you at the meeting tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

_"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."_  
_– Oscar Wilde_

* * *

The next morning at 8am sharp, America walked into the conference room with his head held high and Rosemary strapped to his chest. England would have been proud of him for arriving on time, except that England wasn't in attendance. Scotland was serving as the representative of the United Kingdom at this conference. The official explanation was that Scotland wanted more say in international politics, and England had finally relented after his near attempt to leave the union, but everyone knew the  _real_  reason.

The eyes of the world followed America as he took his seat while confused murmuring filled the room. Oblivious as usual, he ignored the other nations and made sure that Rosemary was settled comfortably on his lap.

"Ähm," Germany quieted the other nations by standing up and loudly clear his throat. He wasn't the host, but at this point all of the nations expected him to take control anyway, especially since Canada had been trying (and failing) to get everyone's attention for the past ten minutes. "Amerika, you are not allowed to bring non-nations to World Meetings," he remarked.

"Hey, it's cool. Canada said he didn't mind. Right, bro?"

"Eh?" Canada looked embarrassed at all of the attention. "No..."

"Be that as it may, it is forbidden," Germany insisted.

"So why does Canada get to bring Kumajiro?" America demanded.

"Who?" Germany asked.

"Who?" Canada echoed.

"Me!" The polar bear reminded him.

"Oh, let him stay," Austria huffed. "It's not as if a toddler could possibly be more disruptive than America himself."

"That's right!" America grinned. He got the sense that Austria said it more to annoy Germany than to help him, but he flashed a smile at the other nation anyway. Germany glanced at the clock and sighed, deciding that starting on time was more important than making a fuss over the child in America's lap. He steadfastly ignored America for the rest of his presentation on the strength of various currencies, even though the other nations continued to watch the young nation and whisper amongst themselves.

Rosemary began yawning during a presentation on agricultural tariffs, and America spent his time watching her sleep peacefully instead of randomly interrupting the way he usually did when bored. She was so cute, it was like watching an internet video of a sleepy kitten! The meeting progressed through the agenda quickly, and Germany actually looked pleased for once.

Once Spain began animatedly discussing some change in the EU Entry Price System for tomatoes, Rosemary's eyes fluttered open. She glanced around the room, yawned, and gave America a pleading look. "Daddy, I'm bored. Can we go soon?"

"Sorry, sweetie. Just fifteen more minutes 'til lunch. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah." She nodded with her mouth set in a determined line. "I'm a big kid!"

The nations closest to them sat up a little straighter when they heard her English accent and America could see the uncertainty flicker in their eyes. He grinned to himself. England had painted him as a liar, but he wasn't! At least, not as much of a liar as England claimed.

When it came time for lunch, America wasn't surprised to see Sweden and Finland make their way to his side, pushing their way through the curious onlookers. Nothing could make a crowd move quite as quickly as Sweden's frightening gaze. The promise of a "free lunch" was more than enough to earn America's cooperation. He dragged Canada along too, just barely remembering that he had already promised to have lunch with his brother.

At the nice Nordic cafe, Rosemary and Canada happily munched on Swedish pancakes with lingonberry jam, while America explained the secret to his 'pregnancy.'

"... so I found a micronation that already existed and gave them some land. You two share a border, right? I bet someone has come up with something."

Finland nodded thoughtfully. It was hard to read Sweden's expression, but he didn't look angry, so America counted that as a victory. Mostly he was just grateful that they were both too reserved to ask why England thought the pregnancy was a lie. He could see Canada giving him a  _look_ , and he knew that he'd be getting an earful from his twin later.

"Pancakes are the best!" Rosemary said cheerfully as she cleaned off her plate.

Canada smiled fondly and ruffled her hair. "I think she takes after me."

"She better not share your addiction to poutine," America teased.

"What's poutine?" Rosemary asked.

The twins answered at the same time:

"An abomination unto French fries," America groused.

"The most delicious food ever invented," Canada bragged.

They glared at each other playfully and then laughed. America was glad that his daughter liked her uncle, but he still desperately wished that England was with them. England would love the girl's bright smiles and clever questions. At the thought of England, his normally bright grin dimmed. Canada noticed. "Only a couple more hours," he said as he gave America's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Rosemary gaped. "There's more talkie stuff?!"

"Tell me about it, kiddo." America chuckled.

Back in the conference room, he plopped down into his own seat and tried not to let the afternoon sessions lull him to sleep the same way it sent Rosemary into a peaceful slumber. Since his plan to speak to England at the conference had failed, he needed to figure out an alternate way to achieve his happy reunion.

The mid-afternoon break came and went without any surprises. It was the time when England normally would have rushed off to find a cup of tea, and America would have joined him with a cup of joe. They might have snuck into a closet for coffee- and tea-flavored kisses, though England was usually insistent that they finish before the meeting resumed. This time, America drank his coffee alone.

As he returned, he noticed Scotland giving him a thoughtful look and it occurred to him that England's brothers might actually be able to help if he could just convince them that Rosemary was really England's child. Then again, their 'help' might consist of getting England drunk and dropping him off at America's house. It wouldn't be the first time.

"America!" Germany shouted.

He looked up and blinked, realizing that everyone was staring at him again. "What now?" he asked, wondering what rule he had broken.

"As I said, it's time for your presentation."

"Oh... right. Uh, what's the topic again?" America asked. With everything that had been going on between him and England, he had completely forgotten to prepare.

Germany sighed. "Nuclear disarmament."

"Oh, come on. You always make me do nuclear disarmament!" America protested. "I don't even have the biggest stockpile. You should make Russia give the speech."

"It's not the size of the stockpile that matters, it is the skill of the operator," France joked.

"Russia's topic is the importance of an independent press," Germany said with a straight face. Sometimes America suspected that he actually did have a sense of humor.

"All right, fine, fine." America walked to the podium with Rosemary still strapped to his chest. He started in on his standard we're-really-trying-to-cut-down-the-size-of-our-pile speech, but he soon found himself interrupted by Finland of all people.

"Germany, why not ask America to cover a different topic instead? I'd like to hear him discuss family-friendly work policies," Finland suggested.

" _I_  want to hear how he plans to reduce his stockpile," Russia insisted.

"Then maybe you should resume bilateral negotiations." Finland's sweet, polite smile looked strange compared to the creepy grin on Russia's face, but he didn't back down. Living with Sweden had probably done wonders for his ability to ignore scary expressions.

"Yeah!" America was happy to do anything that irritated Russia. He gave Finland a thumbs-up and nodded cheerfully. "It's been kind of hard to keep working when I need to take care of Rosie here. I mean, she does a good job of taking care of herself, but the White House doesn't have a place for kids, so she has to stay quiet for the whole day. And nannies don't just magically float into your house on an umbrella. I can't believe Walt lied to me."

"Sometimes I help Daddy with his work!" she said, beaming at the nations. Although she took after England in appearance, America could tell that she definitely had his personality.

"That's right, sweetie. You did a great job color-coding those files." America glanced around the conference room. Many of the nations seemed bored, but at least the Nordics were giving him encouraging smiles. "Anyway, we've pretty much set up an economy where everyone is expected to have someone at home to take care of the kids. But that isn't always possible, you know. So I'm thinking it'd be a good idea if we paid folks so they could stay home and do that, at least when the kid is really little."

Canada sighed. "Al, almost everyone other than you has paid parental leave."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Oh." Not one to be easily discouraged, America quickly bounced back. "Well, I guess I'll get working on that then. Also, robot nannies! They would be awesome."

Japan nodded eagerly. "Yes, I agree with America-san."

The rest of the room laughed (America suggesting robots as the solution to every world problem had become a bit of a world punch line) and Germany called out the name of the next speaker, someone who had actually prepared for their assigned topic. America returned to his seat and tuned out again, too busy worrying about his situation with England to even bother with his normal interruptions. Because Germany factored time for interruptions into the schedule, the conference ended early, giving the happy nations plenty of time to get ready for happy hour.

"Is it over? Can we go see Father now?" Rosemary asked.

"Oh, honey... he couldn't make it to the conference. I'm not sure when we'll get a chance to see him," America replied. He wished that he hadn't promised her that they would have a chance to see England during the conference. It seemed that he had been breaking a lot of promises lately.

"I want to see him."

"Me too, honey. Me too."

America hastily rubbed away his misty eyes as he noticed Scotland headed his way. The nation approached carefully and held up his palms in a gesture of peace. "I'm still not sure what to think about you," he admitted, "but I'd like to give the wee lass a chance to talk with England."

"Really?" America leapt out of his chair in excitement, his earlier sadness immediately forgotten in a rush of joy. "England's here? You gotta let me come talk to him!" he cried, jumping forward and shaking Scotland by his shoulders. He needed to seize his chance. If he could just talk with England for more than a few minutes, he knew he could explain everything.

Scotland glared and brushed off America's hands. "He's not  _here_. We planned a videochat after the conference so I could update him on what happened."

"Well can I just—"

"No!" Scotland interrupted. "He's willing to talk to the lass, but he doesn't want to talk to you."

"Oh." America's face fell. He glanced down at Rosemary and brushed her hair behind her ear. "What do you say, Rosie, do you want to talk to England?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, yes!"

With a touch of reluctance and sorrow that he couldn't talk to England himself, America unstrapped her from the body carrier and handed the toddler over to Scotland. He missed her warmth as soon as she left his hands, but he couldn't keep her away from her chance to talk with her other father. Even if he wasn't able to patch up his relationship with England, Rosemary deserved to have both of her parents. "Be good for Uncle Scottie," he told her.

"I will," she promised with a smile.

"Scotland! Call me as soon as you're done!" America called after them.

He found Canada waiting for him by the conference room door and he was more than willing to join Canada for dinner. Even if Canada did pick a restaurant known for its poutine. America settled for a mooseburger and sighed.

"What am I doing wrong?" he asked as he despondently dunked a fry in ketchup.

Canada arched an eyebrow. "Do you honestly want an answer to that?"

"Yeah." America nodded. He didn't like to ask for help. But when it came to matters of the heart... he clearly needed help.

"Okay, here goes." Canada took a deep breath. "First, everything terrible that is happening to you is your own damn fault. You tried to scare England in an idiotic manner, which, I'll admit, is just you being you. But  _then_  you encouraged him to think that you were really pregnant. And instead of talking to him about whether creating a micronation would be a good idea, you went behind his back. Honestly, Al. If you can't have a mature conversation with your boyfriend, how are you supposed to take care of a child?"

America nibbled the fry as he considered Canada's list of accusations. "Okay, I know I shouldn't have lied. But part of the reason he's refusing to talk to me is because he thinks I kidnapped Rosemary."

Canada arched an eyebrow. "Given everything else you've done, it's not an outlandish suggestion. Think about it. You're basically the Boy Who Cried Wolf."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

"But I never told England I was being attacked by a wolf!"

" _No_ , Al." Canada planted his face in his hands. "The moral of the story is that if you keep lying to people they'll start to believe that everything you say is a lie."

"Geez. That's a terrible lesson. If someone lies a couple of times you're supposed to let them get eaten by wolves?"

"It's not about wolves!" Canada sighed. "Just... forget I brought it up. The important question is: what are you going to do when you finally talk to England?"

"I'm going to apologize to him."

"And  _then_  what?"

"And then he'll forgive me." America smiled. He couldn't wait until England forgave him. Make-up sex was the best sex.

Canada tossed his hands into the air in exasperation. "You're hopeless! You don't actually think you did anything wrong. You're just hoping that if you mouth the right words, England will fall into your arms again."

"Hey! If you think I'm in the wrong then why are you even helping me?" America complained, finishing off the last of his fries with a petulant bite.

"Oh, Al." Canada's expression softened. "I know you didn't do any of this to be mean. And when England called to invite me to the baby shower... I'm not sure I've ever heard him so excited for something in his entire life."

"He was so  _happy_ , Mattie. What was I supposed to do?"

"You should have told him that you had never realized that having a child meant so much to him, and that you would do everything you could to make his wish a reality."

America's mouth formed an O of surprise. His brother was right. England would have been just as happy with the truth. And if America had been honest from the beginning they would be together. He shook his head in anger. "I wish I had never gotten that stupid idea to pretend to be pregnant."

Canada reached across the table and patted his brother's shoulder. "You need to show him that you're truly, genuinely, deeply sorry."

"I just... damn it," America took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You're the one who's good at apologizing!"

"Al, I know you're really upset right now. So I'm going to ignore that."

"Thanks, bro." America gave his twin a wan smile. "Maybe Rosemary will do a good job of convincing England that she's ours, and he'll be willing to talk with me."

With that cheerful thought in mind, he pulled out his phone and called Scotland. When he reached voicemail instead, he decided to head back to the hotel to pick up his daughter directly. Maybe if he was lucky, Scotland would be willing to pass a message to England.

The same receptionist from the previous night greeted him in the hotel's lobby. "Good evening, sir. Are you still interested in a room? We've just had a few unexpected openings."

"Nah. Could you just patch me through to Alistair Kirkland?"

She gave him a confused look. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Kirkland has already checked out."

America froze and felt a cold fear begin to swell in his chest. "Did he have a little girl with him? She would be about three, blond, wearing green clothes," he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "I think we got a little mixed up in our plans for who was going to take Rosemary to the airport." He didn't want to get the police involved. Not when the only 'birth certificate' he had for his daughter was an official government land transfer.

"Oh, yes!" The receptionist smiled. "I remember her. She was very sweet."

"Thank you, miss." America grabbed Canada by the arm and pulled him outside. "That bastard stole her!" he shouted as soon as the doors closed behind them.

"They might still be at the airport! Get in!" Canada climbed into the driver's seat. America jumped into the passenger's seat and slammed the door so hard he left a dent. He didn't care. He had already damaged his most important relationship, possibly beyond repair. He couldn't lose his daughter too.

They sped down Montreal's streets and once at the airport, Canada abused his government powers to make the ticket agents tell him the flight time for Alistair Kirkland. Awed by Matthew Williams' badge, the agent apologized profusely. "I'm so sorry, sir. His flight for London took off ten minutes ago."

"Damn it!" America swore.

"I could make them redirect the flight..." Canada suggested.

"No." America frowned and shook his head. "We don't need our bosses involved. He's taking her to England, so I know she'll be safe."

"Looks like we need two tickets to London."

America clenched his fists. "Yeah, except England's put me on a do not fly list!"

A slow smile spread across Canada's face. "Well, isn't it lucky for you that you have a twin who is still in England's good graces?"

"Really?" America gasped and then grinned so widely that his cheeks hurt. He pulled Canada into a tight hug and gratefully accepted his brother's Canadian passport.

Just over two hours later, America was boarding his own flight to London with nothing but his wallet, his phone, and the clothes on his back. Despite his worry for Rosemary, he felt ready to face the world as the plane lifted off the ground. He was going to get his daughter back, and he was going to get England back, and nothing in the world was going to stop him.


	5. Chapter 5

_"I've now realized for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest."_   
_– Oscar Wilde_

* * *

After spending the entire flight worrying instead of sleeping, America was dog-tired when he finally arrived at Heathrow. Operating on autopilot, he hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address for England's townhouse in London. Resting his forehead against the window, he watched familiar landmarks pass by, reminding him of happier times.

America's heart clenched as England's house pulled into view, looking as stately and beautiful as ever. He paid the driver and breathed a sigh of relief to find that England's spare key was still hidden under the ugliest gnome in the garden. America let himself in through the back door, slipping off his shoes by the door and padding silently through the mud room. The house seemed cold and forlorn, although it was hard to tell if the house felt that way or if was just America.

He wandered into the kitchen. The kettle on the stove was cold; if England had made his morning cup of tea, it had happened at least an hour earlier. Walking through the empty living room and up the stairs, America thought about what he would say to England when he found him. Whatever he said, he wondered if it would be enough.

At the top of the landing, America noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. He stepped into England's office and was shocked to see the desk and part of the floor covered with a mess of papers. Even during the height of the Blitz, he had never seen England's office in such disarray. America picked a few papers off the floor.

They were notices for missing girls, each filled with photos and descriptions of where she had gone missing and heartfelt pleas from the family for help finding their child.

America let the papers in his hand flutter to the floor. He knew that Rosemary's picture wouldn't be in the pile, but it was easy to see that England had spent the evening trying to find her. Tea cups stacked at the edge of the desk testified to a night spent poring over papers instead of sleeping.

Moving on to England's bedroom, America yelped as he stubbed his toes on a glass bottle that went careening across the floor, stopping with a loud thud against the wall. He winced, recognizing it as a bottle of scotch. There weren't many reasons for England to have an empty bottle of scotch in his bedroom, and none of them were good.

But of all the depressing things in the house, it was then that America noticed the most depressing of them all. He could see pieces of pink fluff spread across the floor. A stuffed horn lay near another empty bottle, telling him that the pink fluff had once been part of the cute fluffy unicorn he had won for England in a ridiculous carnival game at a county fair. England had acted annoyed at the gift, as he always did, but America knew that he secretly loved it. America dropped to his knees and desperately gathered the pink fluff together until he had a unicorn-sized pile. He had to believe that he could fix it. It wasn't until he noticed droplets falling onto his glasses that he realized he was crying.

America wasn't sure how long he spent huddled over the shredded stuffed animal, but it was the sound of his patriotic ring tone that eventually pierced his despondent thoughts.

He looked down and saw that Germany was calling. He probably wanted to know why America was late for the meeting. America ignored the call. He had more important matters to handle, beginning with a trip to the American Embassy.

It was time for the truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth.

He just hoped that it would be enough.

* * *

_Several hours earlier..._

Rosemary pressed her forehead against the airplane window and blinked in amazement as the pale light of dawn colored the water far below. She squealed in delight as she bounced up and down in Scotland's lap. "Look, Uncle Scottie! The ocean!"

"Yes, it's lovely," he agreed. "Have you ever seen the ocean before?"

"Mmm-hmm. I was born near the ocean!"

"Really? Where?" Scotland asked her encouragingly.

"Daddy tells me that I came out of Florida."

"He said  _what_?" Scotland demanded as he and Wales shared a look above Rosemary's head. Scotland shook his head. "America should not be allowed near children."

Wales rubbed his chin. "And if America was the pregnant one, shouldn't he have told her that she came from Cornwall or Manhood Peninsula or something?"

"Guys," Northern Ireland interrupted from his aisle seat. "I don't want to talk about which part of the English coastline represents England's dick."

Rosemary tilted her head to the side. "What's a dick, Uncle Scottie?"

While Northern Ireland snickered and the passengers near them gasped in shock, Scotland choked on a cough. "That's really a question to ask your parents, lass."

"Oh. Will I see Engwand soon?"

"As soon as we land."

"And Daddy will join us when his meeting's over?"

"Aye," Scotland lied. "Now, lass... other than America, can you remember people who spent time taking care of you?" he asked gently.

Rosemary shook her head. "Just Daddy."

Scotland tried not to swear in disappointment.

"Perhaps England found something in the notices," Wales suggested.

After the plane landed, Rosemary urged her uncle Scotland to go faster as he carried her to the baggage claim area. Knowing that England was waiting for her, she whipped her head in all directions, until a messy head of blond hair came into view.

"Father! Father!" she cried happily, taking advantage of Scotland's surprise to wiggle out of his arms. She dodged between legs and rolling suitcases to reach England as quickly as her short stubby legs could carry her.

England's eyes widened as the little girl wrapped her arms around his leg and clutched him tightly. He gathered her into his arms and slowly rose to his feet as his brothers pushed their way through the crowd. "Any luck?" he asked them.

Scotland shook his head. "'Fraid not. The wee lass doesn't seem to remember anything about her real parents."

"Father, what's a dick?" Rosemary asked sweetly.

England nearly dropped her in shock. "What have you three been  _teaching_  her?"

Scotland glanced at Wales, Wales looked at Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland stared at his phone and pretended that he had an urgent email. Scotland finally shrugged and lied. "No idea. Must be America's fault."

"It's good that we rescued her in time," Northern Ireland piped in.

"I see... well, I'm afraid that I didn't find a single match in the notices." England sighed and rubbed the dark bags under his eyes. "Two sets of parents wanted to see her in person, just to be sure. I hate to raise their hopes, but I don't see what else we can do."

"See Daddy soon?" Rosemary murmured as she buried her face in the crook of England's neck with a contented sigh.

"We'll try to find your mother and father as soon as possible," England promised her, rubbing the toddler's back comfortingly. She snuggled against him and fell asleep cradled in his arms as the UK brothers piled into England's car. He yawned and wished he could sleep too. It had been a hard night, and it promised to be a harder day.

Rosemary slept through the meeting with the first parents, and England was grateful that she didn't hear the couple's muffled sobs when they looked at her in despair and told England that she wasn't their missing daughter. He apologized for wasting their time and carried her back to the car, gently rocking the girl back and forth as she continued to snooze against his chest. She reminded him of another nation he had cradled against his chest, but he immediately pushed that thought away in anger and sorrow.

Wales glanced back from the driver's seat, a worried expression crossing his face as he took in England's haggard state. "Ready for the next couple?" he asked.

"I don't think we have much choice," England replied, leaning back into his seat with a sigh. He just hoped that Rosemary would remember her real parents when she saw them. She seemed utterly convinced that  _he_  was her father; he wasn't sure he wanted to witness her disappointment when she learned the truth.

"Want me to handle this one?" Wales asked sympathetically.

England nodded, grateful that at least one of his brothers could be halfway decent, at least when football matches weren't involved. "If you would."

When they arrived at the next address, Wales disappeared into the house and returned two minutes later with a struggling and screaming child in his arms. "I want my father!" a very-awake and very-angry Rosemary shrieked. "FATHER!"

Driven by the girl's screams, England jumped out of the car and raced toward her.

"You'd better cwtch her," Wales said, quickly passing over the child.

England cradled her against his chest, murmuring soothingly as she sobbed. "There, there," he said softly. "We'll find your father."

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" Rosemary wailed.

"We aren't, sweetie. We're just trying to find your real parents," England replied.

She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I don't understand! There's just you and Daddy. Please don't leave me."

"I'm not... it isn't that... I'm sorry, darling. I'll be here to take care of you as long as you need me, I promise," England said, brushing away her tears. He gently patted her on the back, even as he worried that every kind gesture would make it harder for her to return to her real parents. She nodded and snuggled into his arms as he slipped back into the car.

"Do you think America found an amnesiac orphan?" Scotland suggested.

"I honestly have no idea," England admitted, absentmindedly rocking Rosemary back and forth in a gentle motion as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I still say we should have beaten him for answers when we had the chance," Northern Ireland complained.

"Oh?" England arched an eyebrow. "He called you Ireland again, didn't he?"

"Yep," Wales replied.

"Aye," Scotland agreed.

"Shut up," Northern Ireland said with a pout.

They sat in the car in huffy silence as England contemplated what to do next. He hadn't eaten breakfast, he was dying for a cup of tea, and it seemed that he was responsible for a small child who had been brainwashed into believing that he was her father. They had been planning to take turns caring for Rosemary, but it was starting to look like England would have to take on the full caregiver responsibility.

"Look. If we can't find her parents right away, I'm going to need some supplies for a temporary nursery," England finally said, rubbing his forehead with one hand to ease the headache that was building behind his eyes. "The Queen offered me Prince George's hand-me-downs when I told her the news about... well..." he trailed off.

"You still haven't told her the truth have you?" Wales asked as he took the car out of park and expertly navigated the narrow London streets.

England flushed. "I was merely waiting for the right time," he said defensively, glaring out the window as they drew closer to Buckingham Palace.

"Hah! I don't think there's ever a right time to admit to the Queen that your boyfriend is a lying wanker who isn't pregnant."

England grimaced and covered the girl's ears as quickly as he could. "North!" he growled. "Stop swearing!" He really didn't want to have to explain to her parents why she had learned so many naughty words while in their care.

"Don't get too attached to the wean," Scotland warned. "You can't keep her."

"I'm not getting attached," England replied defensively. He wasn't cosseting the child, he was just behaving like a reasonable, mature adult. Unlike his brothers. When he was sure that they had stopped swearing, at least for the moment, he uncovered her ears.

Rosemary tilted her head in confusion and looked up at him with big pleading eyes. "Are we going home soon?" she asked. "I'm hungry and I need to wee-wee."

"I wouldn't say no to elevenses and a WC myself," Northern Ireland agreed.

Thirding the idea, Wales picked a nice bakery near the palace. While his brothers happily gorged themselves on sweets, England found himself in the awkward position of taking Rosemary to the men's restroom. He waited outside the stall door and then helped her reach the sink to wash her hands when she was done.

She insisted on holding his hand as they walked back to the dining area, humming happily to herself as she swung their hands back and forth. England looked down at her eager grin and realized that Scotland was right about the dangers of getting attached. It hurt to look at her and know that he would have to give her up to her real parents, once they could find them. Even worse, England almost found himself hoping that something bad had happened to her parents, so he could keep her guilt-free.

The familiar and relaxing scent of tea enveloped them as soon as they joined the UK brothers at their table. England gratefully prepared himself a cup while his brothers continued to scarf down the biscuits and jam that were a traditional part of elevenses.

"Can I have some?" Rosemary asked as she snuggled closer to England. She leaned against his thigh and gave the tea cup a curious look.

"The question you should ask is  _'May_  I have some?'" he corrected her gently.

"Oh." She smiled up at him. "May I?"

"Of course, darling." He handed over the cup and watched her carefully as she took a sip.

Her face broke into a grin of delight. "This is weally good!"

"Well, I'm glad America didn't ruin your sense of taste," England said fondly.

"Maybe it's dangerous to let her stay with  _you_ ," Wales teased between bites.

"Sod off," England complained as he rolled his eyes, deciding that his quietest brother wasn't halfway decent after all. He returned to his tea and felt immeasurably better after he finished the cup. It wasn't quite as refreshing as eight hours of sleep, but it was a decent substitute.

"Daddy makes tea sometimes," Rosemary remarked.

"He does?"

"Uh huh. But he doesn't drink it. He just likes the smell."

"I see." If England wasn't so upset with America, he would have found the information fascinating. As it was, he had to choke down the anger that rose in his throat. America didn't have a right to pine for him when he was a bloody liar.

With full bellies and empty bladders, they headed to Buckingham Palace to claim the children's furniture and toys that the Queen had promised him. England was glad that Her Majesty wasn't in residence. He wasn't up to the task of introducing her to Rosemary and explaining that the toddler wasn't actually his child. And the girl didn't quite seem to understand that she wasn't supposed to refer to the Queen as 'grandma.' He blamed America's lax attitudes toward royalty.

England left Rosemary with his brothers and wandered through the storage rooms, picking from the spare baby furniture and excess toys. The royal family had received a plethora of baby gifts when the young Prince was born. They had donated most, but even the small amount they kept would be enough to fill dozens of nurseries.

He fought down tears as he noticed a crib that looked exactly like the one he had picked with America. It hurt to think about their shopping trip. It hurt to remember how excited he had been for the birth of their child. Excited enough to push away his doubts and suspicions about the preposterous idea of a pregnant nation. He should have known better than to trust America's sweet promises.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, England gave the crib one last look, knowing that it was never meant to be. He didn't have time to wallow in despair when there was a little girl depending on him. Even if she wasn't  _his_ , she deserved his best. After a moment to compose himself, he returned to find his brothers playing with the corgis that wandered around the palace. He shook his head fondly, and then began to panic when he noticed that someone was missing.

"Where's Rosemary?" England asked.

"She was here a minute ago," Scotland said, frowning as he glanced around the room.

Northern Ireland shrugged. "I thought she was with you? She mentioned wanting to find her daddy."

"She calls me her father. She calls  _America_  her daddy!" England shouted. His panic reached a crescendo as they searched the room from top to bottom without success. The guards were called and divided up into search parties. England hurried from room to room, calling for Rosemary. He knew if she would respond to anyone, it would be him.

"Rosemary, this isn't a good time to play hide and seek," England called.

"Darling, do you want to go out for ice cream?" he tried in the next room.

"Please, sweetie. I'll... I'll call America. You can talk to him on the phone. Doesn't that sound nice?"

In the sinking pit of his heart, England knew that the girl was well and truly lost. He and the guards expanded the search outside of Buckingham Palace. Rosemary seemed like a clever girl. If she was looking for America, she would know better than to look inside a palace. As he finalized the search parameters, one of the guards delivered a sharp salute and an envelope marked 'urgent.'

It was from the American Embassy. England considered ignoring the envelope, certain that it was from America himself. They had both avoided official government channels after their break-up, not wanting their bosses to confuse personal issues for national ones. But if there was some chance it would help him find Rosemary, he had to open it.

England sliced through the top seal with a letter opener. He frowned to see there was only one piece of paper inside the envelope. It was a legal document describing a land transfer from Alfred F. Jones, on behalf of the U.S. government, to one self-described Earl of Rum, receiving the land for the Dominion of British West Florida.

 _The Dominion of British West Florida_.

The paper slipped from England's numb fingers as his body froze in cold shock. He couldn't hear the sound of the envelope hitting the floor over the sound of blood pounding in his ears. His heart thundered painfully in his chest.

_She was a micronation._

The guard looked concerned. "Sir, are you quite all right?"

_A British micronation._

"He was up all night," Scotland explained. "We should probably take him home."

_A British-American micronation._

England wanted to explain that he was fine. Wonderful, actually. There was just a strange pounding in his chest and his head felt like it was filled with fuzzy clouds.

_He was a father._

Ecstatic and exhausted, England fainted.


	6. Chapter 6

_"The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means."_   
_– Oscar Wilde_

* * *

When England came to, he was flat on his back and could hear his brothers arguing loudly over his head. It didn't feel like he had knocked his head, though, so at least one of them must have been decent enough to catch him before he hit the floor. Sorting through his fuzzy thoughts, it took him a few moments to figure out why his brothers sounded so worried. They were debating how to best search for British West Florida, knowing full well that America would go nuclear on their arses if they didn't find her.

"...searching for the Loch Ness Monster for more than 100 years and you still haven't found her! And that's just one lake," Northern Ireland complained, hands on his hips.

"It's not a lake!" Scotland protested. "It's a  _loch_."

"Shouldn't we do something about England first?" Wales asked, nudging England's leg with his foot. "Never mind, he's awake."

Scotland smirked. "Strange, he hasn't even been drinking."

"Oh, belt up," England complained as he sat up and then, still feeling a little lightheaded, slowly climbed to his feet. He was grateful that their concerns about America's anger had distracted his brothers from mocking his fainting spell as much as they normally would. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to America's number at the top of his contact list.

Wales tilted his head to get a good look at the screen. "You aren't thinking of calling him, are you?" he asked incredulously.

"Lying is what got us into this situation in the first place," England replied reasonably. "She's as much his as she is mine, and he deserves to know that she's gone missing."

"Wait! Give me an hour head start to catch a flight out of the country," Northern Ireland interrupted, running a hand through his auburn hair. "I've always wanted to visit North Korea." When his brothers looked askance at him, he added, "Oh, come on! It's the only other country with North in its name."

"Ignore him. I'm not scared of America and I'll help you find the lass," Scotland promised.

"You're just saying that because you have nukes," Northern Ireland grumbled under his breath, but he joined the others as they gathered around a map. They divided the nearby area into quadrants, assigning a section to each brother. While his three brothers left to go their separate ways, England stared at his phone with trepidation. He took a deep breath and pressed the call button.

"England! How is she? Where are you?" America cried as soon as he answered the call. His voice sounded a little hoarse.

"I got your envelope," England replied. "About British West Florida."

"You believe it, right? 'Cause my boss has trouble with―"

"Yes, I believe it," England interrupted, biting his lip as he prepared to eat crow. "I'm sorry, America. I should have given you a chance to explain. And I shouldn't have just taken her without hearing your explanation first."

"It's okay, I knew she would be safe with you."

"Uh, about that..."

"Look, I get why you did it. I shouldn't've pretended I was pregnant when I was coming up with the micronation plan. Hell, I don't even know why I thought pregnancy would be a good prank. I'm sorry, England."

England paused for a moment to appreciate the contrite earnestness in America's voice. Unfortunately, he somehow doubted America would be singing the same tune when he told the other nation that Rosemary had gone missing.

"So... is silence a good thing or a bad thing?" America finally asked.

"Well,  _bad_ , but probably not how you think. You see, I have some news for you too. I'm afraid that Rosemary has... slightly wandered off, and I'm not sure where she is." There was silence on the other end for a moment and England held his breath.

"YOU LOST HER?" America shouted. "HOW COULD YOU LOSE OUR DAUGHTER? YOU ARE OFFICIALLY THE WORST FATHER EVER."

"Well, at least I didn't lie to the whole world about being pregnant!" England snapped.

"You were the one who invited them! I was so damn close to telling you the truth, but then all these other nations showed up and screwed it up."

"Don't you dare... ugh..." England rubbed his throbbing temples and took a deep breath. "As much as I would like to shout this out here and now, we have a micronation to find."

"Crap." He heard America sigh. "You're right."

They met outside Buckingham and began a search of the area directly south of the Palace. The silence between them was tense and awkward as they walked along the crowded streets, standing at least an arms' length apart while they looked high and low (but mostly low) for a blond toddler with a cherubic grin.

England glanced out of the corner of his eye at America and tried to make sense of his jumbled emotions. His self-righteous anger had been replaced by a gnawing uncertainty. Miscommunications had led to fights in the past, but never as serious as this one. And never before had the stakes been so high. How were they supposed to care for a child if they couldn't speak to each other honestly?

Moving ahead of him, America strode along a pedestrian walk that led from the palace to Westminster Cathedral, peeking his head into stores as they followed the walkway steadily southward. The tourists and shoppers who filled the busy streets looked nothing like a lost micronation.

"Do you think there's a way we could sense her?" America wondered aloud.

"How so?"

"Something like this," he suggested, surprising England by taking a step forward and pressing his hand against the British nation's chest. England's heart rate sped up as America closed his eyes in concentration. They held the awkward pose for a few moments, before America sighed and let his hand drop to his side. "Guess not."

"Perhaps we should split up," England suggested, thinking about the large number of streets they had to cover.

"No!" America shouted, his eyes wide. "That's how every horror movie starts."

"This isn't... oh, fine, we can stick together," England huffed. He gasped and nearly had all of the air pressed out of his lungs as America hugged him tightly. A traitorous part of him enjoyed the warmth and comfort of America holding him close. England pushed the other nation away before he lost himself in the warmhearted feeling. "Let me go, and get back to looking!" he snapped.

America grinned. "Don't worry, England. The hero is here! We'll find her in a jiffy."

"I hope so." Gnawing his lip with worry as he looked up and down the walkway, England tried to take consolation in the fact that a micronation was nowhere near as vulnerable as a human child. Rosemary might be lost and scared, but she wasn't in any true danger.

"Hey, she'll be okay," America said reassuringly, his expression softening as he reached out to clasp England's shoulder.

"I know," England replied, stepping out of arm's reach.

America frowned. "Are  _we_  going to be okay?"

"I'm... I'm not sure." Avoiding America's gaze, England picked up the pace. His heart leapt when he spotted a head of blond hair toddling up ahead, but as the shoppers in front of him moved to the side, he could see that the girl was holding a woman's hand and wearing different clothes. She wasn't his daughter.

"England, wait!" With his slightly longer strides, America quickly caught up. He reached out to catch England's upper arm and then thought better of it, letting his hand drop to his side. "What happens when we find her?"

"I was thinking of alternating her between our countries month by month."

"You mean... like joint custody?" America's frown deepened.

"Yes, something like that," England said with a nod. Dealing with the mechanics of their custody arrangement felt easier than decoding his own painful emotions. "Would you prefer the odd months or the evens? You'll have her for your birthday and Thanksgiving if you take the odds, and I'll have her for my birthday and Christmas."

"How can you be so Vulcan about this?" America shook his head in disbelief. "What am I supposed to say to Rosemary? I told her we were going to be a happy family."

"Well, you should have consulted  _me_  first about being a happy family," England tartly replied. He felt a stab of guilt when he saw the distraught look on America's face. For all of America's flaws, he had genuinely done his best for the girl. England couldn't take out his anger in a way that would harm their daughter. "I'll do my best to ease the transition for her," he promised. "We'll make this work."

"I... I've had her for most of November. I guess it's only fair you have December." America gave England a wan smile. "We just need to find her first."

England nodded and resumed the search until they found themselves in front of the red-and-white-striped Westminster Cathedral. He normally would have spent some time to admire the asymmetrical elegance, but today it was just another building that could be hiding their daughter. He wondered if a prayer would help their efforts, and then tried to remember if he was Catholic or Protestant at the moment.

"Left or right?" America asked, craning his head in both directions. He blushed when his stomach growled loudly enough to make a few heads turn in their direction. "Actually, how about the McDonald's," he suggested, pointing to the golden arches.

"We don't have..." England began to criticize the idea, but his own stomach chose that moment to growl sympathetically and he felt a wave of lightheadedness wash over him. "Perhaps a bite to eat would be a good idea," he agreed.

"Really? You're not going to complain about my junk food? Are you feeling okay?" America asked worriedly, but England just pushed past him and walked into the restaurant. He didn't want to explain that he needed something to eat to save himself the indignity of fainting twice in one day. Even if it was terrible, artery-clogging, greasy junk food.

As soon as he stepped into the store, a blond blur caught his eye. "Rosemary?" England gasped in recognition.

"Father! Daddy!" Rosemary cried happily. She made several customers nearly drop their meals as she dodged between their legs. The girl flung herself at America, who laughed joyfully as he lifted her up above his head and spun her in a happy little circle.

"Rosie!" he said as he pulled her down into a warm hug. He brushed the hair out of her face and smiled. "I missed you too, sweetie," he added, his voice thick with emotion. He reached for England a moment later and pulled him into the family hug. England was so grateful to have his little girl back that he didn't even complain about America's breath-squeezing grip. England wiped his teary eyes and tried to give the girl a stern look.

"You shouldn't run away like that," he admonished. "We were very worried."

"I'm sowwy." Her lower lip quivered and she gave him a close imitation of America's puppy dog eyes.

"It's all right." England could feel his heart melting as he took the girl from America and hugged her close. "Just don't do it again."

"Daddy," she asked sweetly, turning to look at America, "may I ask a question?"

"Sure!" America said brightly. "Your manners have really rubbed off on her," he whispered to England.

"What's a dick?" she asked.

America blushed. "Yikes! Manners aren't the only thing you've been teaching."

"Spotted dick is a type of pudding popular here in the U.K.," England replied, feeling a sudden burst of inspiration. "It's a custard with dried fruit inside it. Quite tasty."

"People here like to eat dick?"

It was England's turn to sputter and blush while America came to the rescue. "Some people. It's kind of an acquired taste. You want a happy meal, sweetie?"

"Yeah!" she nodded eagerly, distracted from the topic by food. In some ways, England realized, she was a lot like her dad. He suddenly felt like a fool. Knowing that she was looking for America, he should have made searching all of the nearby McDonald's locations his top priority. He glanced over at America, while smiled brightly back.

"I'll get us take-out, you call off the search, and then let's head home," America suggested.

England thought it sounded like a wonderful plan.

* * *

England woke up from a blissful nap with Rosemary curled in his arms. As he glanced around the room, he noticed a few changes. Someone had cleaned up the liquor bottles and the shredded pink unicorn. The room wasn't as clean as England usually kept it, but it looked much nicer. He left Rosemary sleeping in his bed and padded down the hallway, pausing when he noticed the new furniture in one of his guest bedrooms. He must have been sleeping very heavily, because someone had set up a nursery with the spare furniture he had selected from Buckingham Palace. By the time he reached his office, he wasn't surprised to see that the notices of missing children and empty tea cups were gone.

England followed the delicate scent of roses down to the living room and he turned his head to see new flowers sitting in a vase. A box of chocolates sat next to it on the table. He glanced toward the kitchen as he heard footsteps coming his way.

"Wait, you gotta go back upstairs!" America cried playfully, smiling at England as he stepped into the living room. He was wearing one of England's frilly aprons, and the effect was rather cute. "I was gonna make you breakfast in bed, but it doesn't work if you're not in bed."

England glanced at a clock. "It's almost suppertime," he replied. He looked back at America and noticed the dark bags under his eyes. "Shouldn't you be tired?"

"I've had like five cups of coffee!" America said, bouncing on his feet. "And your brothers helped with the furniture."

"I see." England felt a sinking suspicion in the pit of his stomach. "You have a list somewhere of things to do to make me forgive you, don't you?"

"Uh..." A guilty look flashed across America's face.

"I think you should stay somewhere else tonight."

"Not even the couch?" America pleaded. "What about your hot bubble bath and the really awesome make-up sex? You always love make-up sex!"

England's glare was softened by a blush. "I'm not ready to forgive you," he said, "and I'm not sure you should be ready to forgive me either."

"Oh."

England nearly relented when he saw America's crestfallen face, but he reminded himself that he didn't want to paper over their relationship issues just for the sake of creating the appearance of a happy family. "I need some time on my own to think," he said firmly.

America sighed and slipped off the apron and tossed it onto the back of one of the sofas. "There are pancakes in the kitchen," he said in a flat voice. He glanced back one last time from the doorway. "I want you to trust me again. Whatever it takes, England, I'll do it," he promised, before letting the door fall shut behind him.

* * *

'Whatever it took' apparently meant more chocolates and more flowers, delivered to England's home and office each day for the next two weeks. America himself had flown back to his own country after explaining to Rosemary that England would be taking care of her because daddy had work to do at home. Reminded of his lover's persistence, England sighed with fond annoyance each time he saw a new floral or chocolaty delivery.

"If I didn't know you were having a tiff with your boyfriend, I would think that he was trying to court me," his secretary said with a laugh as she popped one of the chocolates into her mouth. "Mmm. At least he has good taste."

"He's diligent, I'll give him that," England agreed. He picked up Rosemary from her child-minder and was surprised to find America waiting for them on his stoop, thankfully  _not_  holding another bouquet of flowers.

"Daddy!" Rosemary cried, letting go of England's hand to rush into her dad's arms. The British nation tried not to feel jealous, reminding himself that it was only natural for the girl to be excited to see America again after his fortnight-long absence.

"Have you been a good girl?" America asked, before glancing up and giving England a hesitant smile. "You look like you could use some fun. Dinner and a play?"

"Which play?" England asked. He quirked his lips when America handed over an envelope and he found two tickets to  _The Importance of Being Earnest_  inside.

"You don't have to go with me," America was quick to add. "I'll watch her if you'd rather go with someone else."

"Like one of my brothers?" England gave him a wry smile. "I think not."

Having time alone to think about their relationship had softened England's anger. They had both behaved poorly, but he had also ended up with a beautiful daughter. It felt like time to think about forgiveness. England nodded and invited America to wait inside while he got ready for the play. He straightened his lapels in the mirror and glanced at the patchwork pink unicorn that lay on his bed. It didn't look as good as new, but it was still Rosemary's favorite toy. She had been remarkably sanguine about staying with England. After her first few weeks with America, she apparently expected to shuttle between their houses.

As he closed his bedroom door behind him, he wondered what America planned to do with the toddler while they were at the theatre. England paused and craned his neck when he reached the landing. He could hear America and Rosemary's voices, and it sounded like they were talking about him.

"Why are you and father fighting?" Rosemary asked, a faint tremor in her voice.

"Oh, sweetie. We both needed some time to think about some things. I'm really sorry that it happened, but it's not anything you've done."

"Can I help make it better?"

America laughed fondly. "You make everything better just by being here. No matter what happens, we're both going to love you and take care of you, okay?"

"Okay!"

England waited a few moments, blinking to get rid of the dampness in his eyes. He had always thought that America would be a wonderful dad. It was part of the reason he had wanted a child so badly. They had both nearly bollixed it up, but his time apart from America had given him a chance to reflect on what was really important. Warmth spread throughout his chest as he realized that all three of them were going to be okay.

He smiled at America when he reached the base of the stairs and clasped the other nation's hand. America beamed back at him lovingly.

"So who's taking care of Rosemary tonight?" England asked.

"Sweden and Finland," America explained, pointing out the front window as the two nations got out of a taxi and walked up the front walkway. Sweden seemed to be carrying a bundle of blankets while Sealand rushed forward between them. The blond boy raced into England's house and made a beeline for the other micronation.

"Prepare to recognize me as your uncle!" he cried, picking up Rosemary while she laughed excitedly.

"Don't recognize him as anything other than a pain in the neck," England teased. He turned to greet Finland and Sweden. "Thank you for taking care of her," he said politely.

"Who's this?" America asked excitedly, pointing to the bundle in Sweden's arms. England gaped in shock when he realized it was a child.

"Åland," Finland replied with a gentle smile.

"Hey, congratulations! We should be back in three hours or so," America said, leaving England still confused as they walked out to his car hand-in-hand.

"Wait... did they...?"

"Yep." America grinned. "Isn't it awesome? They're so grateful that we've got babysitting duties covered for at least the next century."

"I have a sudden feeling that the number of micronations in the world is about to spike."

America laughed as he slid into the passenger's seat of England's car. He gave England a hesitant smile as he reached for his hand again. "So... have you forgiven me?"

"Yes. I forgive you for being the liar who made my dreams come true."

"Good. 'Cause I forgive you for fainting when I wasn't there to catch you."

"What?" England demanded, blushing as he started the car and began the short drive to the theatre. "Those wankers need to learn when to keep their mouths shut."

"Don't get too mad. I think they brought it up when they delivered the furniture because I was discussing with my fists whether or not I should punch them."

"And did you?"

America shook his head. "Nah, you know how much I love Ireland! He was the nice dude who gave me Saint Patty's Day!"

"Actually, that was... never mind." England smiled back at America. They were going to need to be more honest with each other, but there was always room for white lies.

They arrived just in time for the opening act, although they ended up missing the second half of the play. The intermission make-up sex in the cloak room was just too good; even better, he dared to admit, than Mr. Wilde's witty dialogue. England smiled to himself in the post-coital glow. He always loved happy endings.

* * *

THE END.


End file.
